If Today, Of Tomorrow
by fyerigurl
Summary: Hunger Games AU. Could you kill your best friend?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Konomi Takeshi's _Prince of Tennis_, or Suzanne Collins's_ The Hunger Games_, or Koushun Takami's _Battle Royale._

**A/N:** Trying a different story for once. Battle Royale/Hunger Games with a Tenipuri twist. Warnings: angst, gore, violence, swearing, character deaths. Rating subject to change.

**UPDATED NOTE:** After brief reconsideration, I have taken the story out of the crossover section. No characters from _The_ _Hunger Games _appear, and this Panem will be distinctly different from that of Collins's. I will put a disclaimer before every chapter that references Collins' trilogy, as well as Koushun's novel.

**~X~**

**Prologue**

It is the year 2100. Twenty years after World War III, also known as "The Nuclear War", "The Holocaust of the Earth", or, as more optimistic textbooks claim, "The Last War". Optimism doesn't come easy for the people left on the ravaged world, trying desperately to pick up the pieces of their latest mistake.

Japan is no more.

Instead, what was once Japan is now a totalitarian nation that is completely caged off and isolated from the rest of the world. The borders are guarded by battleships and soldiers. Anyone who tries to enter will be killed. Anyone who tries to escape will be killed.

Citizens that have lived through the war refuse to acknowledge that the land they stand on was once their beloved Japan. Panem, they call it instead.

The children of today are the offspring of survivors. They know nothing of fresh air, green grass. They have their lessons and play their games in steel buildings, with the ominous hum of the air filtration system in the background, always in the background.

The hum reminds them that someone is always watching them.

There is no telling how many cameras there are, or where they are located. Some claim they don't exist. Yet every threat to the government is extinguished with disgustingly effortless ease. Several years ago an underground group called _Eagle_ tried to rebel, but the government caught word of their covert affairs with stunning speed. They were eliminated. Their executions were public events.

_Junos sees everything._

Rumors have it that Panem's government follows the word of a single man who goes by the name of Junos. No one knows his real name. No one knows what he looks like. All they know is that he abuses his power and position to manifest his sickest desires.

After the last failed rebellion, Junos installed a new policy to extinguish any future uprisings, the Educational Reform Act.

Each year, several students from Panem's remaining six high schools are randomly chosen and sent to a deserted island, where they participate in an annual free-for-all battle. A fight to the death that is broadcasted on national television.

There can only be one winner.

This horrifying annual sacrifice was originally called "Battle Royale", after a novel by one of their own, Koushun Takami, written over a century ago. However, after half the contestants in the fourth battle were wiped out by starvation, the citizens of Panem have found a much more appropriate name.., "_The Hunger Games._"

**~X~**

**End Chapter One**

**A/N:** There may be shounen-ai. There may be OCs. There will be friendship.

Who do YOU want to compete? Let me know what pairings you want to see and who you want in the _Games. _I listen to suggestions. So leave me a review and may the odds be ever in your favor.


	2. Reap

**A/N**: BLEH.

So after an internal debate… yes, I am going to be using my OCs from TCAFS as minor characters. Read _minor._ They're different, so you don't have to read TCAFS first or anything.

**-x-**

_'Tell me this isn't happening. Tell me I'm wrong.'_

Tezuka awakes with a start, his palms sweating and his chest heaving. Another nightmare. No surprise, really. No one sleeps well before a reaping.

He grits his teeth and gets ready for school.

Today was one of those rare days, where the sun decided to poke its face meekly from behind the clouds of ash and dust.

"Good morning, Tezuka."

Tezuka remains silent. There is nothing 'good' about today.

Somehow, Fuji is smiling like he always is. Tezuka has no idea how he does it, and he had to admit that he was slightly envious. Even on this horrible day, Fuji looked as cheerful as ever, walking through life and not letting any of it bother him.

It is customary to wear something black on the day of the reaping, and Tezuka notices immediately that Fuji has a dark braided bracelet around his wrist. He himself opted for a black shirt instead of the usual white one the school uniform requires.

Inui appears next to them, a black cross hanging from his neck. "Morning," he mutters from behind the green notebook.

"Ah, Inui," Fuji smiles. "Are the odds in our favor today?"

"The government released that they're taking six people from each school."

"_Six?_" Fuji repeats. "But it was only three last year…"

The rest of their friends join them. Inui shrugs. "Six might be a nice balance. According to my calculations, it would take an approximate eighteen days."

"Eighteen days, huh…" Kawamura puts in. "That isn't too bad, I suppose."

"Of course, it depends on many factors. The size of the arena, the weapons provided, the strength of the individuals…" Inui counts off his list.

It's disgusting; the way they talk about the Games casually, like it's some kind of twisted Olympics. But they know they have to pretend, because all the alternatives are to be weak, and this is their way of being strong.

"Do you remember the seventh Games? They had ten people from each school."

"Yeah, it lasted almost two months."

"_Oishi_?"

"I don't think that they'll have guns this year. They had that two years ago and it was just too easy…"

"_Hey Oishi_…"

"They gave out food last year, didn't they?"

"Yeah, I guess they got tired of people starving to death. Not so much fun to watch."

"Can't wait till this is over and we can go back to tennis season."

"_Oishi? Say something_."

"Forget it, Taka-san. Just let him be."

"But—"

"He's always been like this."

The bell rings then, a sharp, wailing, ominous sound. A hush descends over the students and they begin to line up silently, proceeding down the hall in single-file. A funeral procession to the auditorium.

The announcer, some high ranking government official, goes through the opening remarks quickly. He doesn't stop for applause and no one offers it. Finally, in an almost resigned voice, he says, "Let the lottery for the 10th Games begin."

Tezuka doesn't remember the first name called. All he knows is that it isn't him.

Then the second name is called. It isn't him.

Third name. Not him.

Disaster strikes when the fourth name is called.

At first, Tezuka is confused. He didn't hear the name; he's been tuning out the announcer's voice from the beginning. The crowd is muttering unhappily. He shifts his gaze around quickly, looking for clues. Inui meets his eye and Tezuka was shocked at the unspoken anguish in his eyes. Did the announcer call his name and he failed to notice?

The answer walks by him.

Fuji passes him on his way to the stage.

_'Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm WRONG.'_

"Fuji!" Tezuka reaches out and grabs his friend's arm without thinking.

For a brief second, Fuji's mask slips. Then, he manages to regain his smiling composure, though the smile is fragile and fake and threatening to break into a million pieces. "They called my name, Tezuka. Let me go." He shakes Tezuka off without a second glance.

Dumbly, the boy stares on.

The next name is called. Tezuka doesn't hear it, (it's not him), but he recognizes the girl that takes to the stage, and his heart sinks. It's Oshiro.

They played mixed doubles together in a tournament once. She's soft-spoken, kind, and friendly. Even though they don't talk much anymore, he still considers her a friend.

The thought of watching his friends kill each other is revolting.

_Only one will live._

One more name. Just one more. The crowd is restless, ready to relax and carry on with their daily lives. The announcer's hand plunges deep into the bowl, fishing out a slip from the bottom. Even before the name is read, Tezuka knows. Somehow, he just _knows_. Maybe it's a moment of clarity, maybe it's destiny calling to him.

_'This ISN'T HAPPENING. WAKE UP. WAKE UP.'_

"Tezuka Kunimitsu!"

There's a flurry of action as everyone turns in his direction.

It is surreal how calm he feels.

He ignores the glances of pity, the sad sighs, the tears that others were shedding on his behalf. Those won't help him now. He passes Fuji and Oshiro and stands at the very end. He can tell that the tensai was trying to catch his eye, trying to say _something_, but he avoids eye contact and stares ahead stonily.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the contestants of Seishun Gakuen!"

Silence.

"Now, are there any volunteers?"

Dead silence.

_Hold your breath. Don't breathe or you might scream._

There will be no volunteers, they know. No one is brave enough (or stupid enough) to offer up their life on a gamble. There are barriers that even friendship and love failed to cross. Even direct siblings, even couples who swore they would die for the other will not step forward when this question is posed. No one wants to be in the Games.

There are a million better deaths to die.

"No one? All right, then…"

Suddenly, a hand is raised, causing everyone to start in surprise. A second-year girl Tezuka doesn't recognize.

"Yeah," she says in a bored tone, as if she is volunteering to take over classroom cleaning duties. "I'll volunteer for Oshiro-senpai."

The crowd is stunned. Nothing like this has ever, _ever_ happened before.

Oshiro goes completely pale. "Suzume-chan, _no._"

"Excellent!" The announcer looks a lot livelier. "Come on up, then."

"NO!" Oshiro is struggling against the guards that are pulling her down. "SUZUME-CHAN, DON'T!"

"Oh, shut up," the girl named Suzume says dismissively. She takes her spot between Fuji and Tezuka, and the guards manage to drag Oshiro, kicking and screaming, away.

It is a horrible, horrible thought, but Tezuka feels relieved. Because killing this unknown second year will be a lot easier than killing Oshiro.

The thought makes him sick.

_Shhh…You can breathe now._

**-x-**

"Ladies and Gentleman, I give you the contestants of RikkaiDai Fuzoku!"

'_Tell me this isn't happening._'

Sanada hears the erratic breathing of the boy next to him, the boy with messy black hair and innocent green eyes, the boy who shouldn't be standing with him on this stage. He wants to do something to comfort him, to tell him that it'll be okay somehow.

But he's never been good at lying.

"Do we have any volunteers?"

Sanada has always been good at seeing movement. Muscle jerks, shifting eyes, swift kendo slices and racket swings. Nothing escapes his gaze.

He sees Yukimura and Yanagi exchange a glance and an almost imperceptible nod.

_Now?_

_Yes. Now._

Like a tide creeping onto shore, they both gradually raise their hands an—

"PUT YOUR HANDS DOWN!" Sanada bellows, a cry of raw desperation.

They flinch, their hands dropping uselessly at their sides.

A second too late, he realizes that they may have been trying to save Akaya. Sanada clenches his hand into a tight fist, nails biting into the skin, drawing blood.

His selfishness has condemned the boy to a fate worse than death.

_What does it matter? We're all damned anyways._

He hears a dry sob escape Akaya's throat and closes his eyes.

'_Tell me I'm dreaming._'

**-x-**

**A/N:** Yeaaaaah… not my best, but I'm too lazy to go back and edit.

Next chapter, we'll find out about Hyotei and some other schools. Who do YOU want to compete? Let me know. I want to get your opinions on pairing too. Most likely leaning towards Perfect Pair. I'll throw in some Troika friendship.


	3. Fade

A/N: This chapter is pretty much just short vignettes of people who are going to participate. I apologize for the messiness.

Lots of hinted pairings. Nothing too obvious.

**~x~**

No one ever knows what to say to those whose names have been picked from the lottery. As Tezuka and Fuji walk down the hallway, students part for them like the Red Sea, as if they had some contagious disease. No one can meet their eyes.

Who wants to look in the eyes of death, anyways?

They have a couple hours before the government takes them away. Following that are two days of training before they are shoved into the arena. Two more days to live, at least.

Fuji and Tezuka return to their classroom, where all their friends (even those not in the class) are sitting, waiting.

For a moment, no one speaks. There is nothing to be said or done anymore.

"I've obtained the full list of contestants," Inui finally breaks the silence.

Fuji manages a smile. "Oh, really? Let's hear it then."

And he begins.

**~x~**

**"**_**Atobe Keigo is one that you'll want to watch out for. I heard he volunteered, and he'll be out for revenge for last year…**_**"**

"Do we have any volunteers?"

Atobe knows them all better than they know themselves. He knows Shishido is having a heart-wrenching internal debate over whether or not to volunteer for Ootori. He knows that (though the proud redhead will deny it) it is tearing Gakuto apart to see his recent doubles partner and kohai standing on the stage. He knows that whenever Oshitari's lips tighten like a rubber band, like now, it's because something in his heart has already snapped. He knows Jirou can't sleep anymore, so his current slumber is a cheap ruse – because dreaming is so much better than this nightmare of a reality.

He knows that all of them, _every last one of them_ is toying with the idea of stepping onto that stage. For revenge. For justice.

_For Kabaji._

But the announcer waits, and none of them raise their hands.

'_Weak,_' Atobe thinks. '_You're all so weak._'

He raises his hand and snaps his fingers. The snap echoes endlessly, circles and circles of sorrow, like a pebble dropping in a boundless cave.

Everyone holds their breaths.

Atobe smirks. "It'll be me!" he declares loudly. Fearlessly.

No one applauds this time. '_They're too awed by my prowess._'

Atobe takes to the stage with the regality of a king.

He's always wanted to make a dramatic exit, after all.

**~x~**

**"**_**There's Ootori Choutarou, also from Hyotei. He won't be too much of a threat...**_**"**

"Oi, Choutarou."

"Ah, Shishido-san." The boy uses every last shred of willpower in his body to force a smile onto his face. He has to smile for him.

"You…" Shishido's expression is unreadable, except for his eyes. There is a dark turmoil straining against those eyes.

Choutarou waits.

Shishido stops. After a moment, he flicks the younger boy across the forehead with a rough gentleness. "You fight good, you hear me?"

The sting of pain in his forehead is disappearing rapidly, and Choutarou presses the palm of his hand into it, wiling for the light pain to stay, to _stay_, because everything is disappearing out of his life and he needs to cling on to something, anything.

_'Please don't go.'_

All it takes is that little flick to put a crack in his fragile resolve.

He breaks, crying and sliding onto the floor.

"Choutarou! Oi! Get it together!" Shishido grabs him and lifts him up, forcing him to his feet. "Geez, if you're going to collapse from a little forehead flick, how are you gonna survive the thirty-five other people out for your blood in the arena?"

He chokes back his sobs.

"C'mon, this is lame," Shishido says, his voice gruff. He keeps his hands under Choutarou's arms, even though his kohai already standing. "You're a lot stronger than people think. You're a lot stronger than _you _think. You can win. So don't you dare give up."

'_Because I will never give up on you._'

He just breathes, feeling the warmth of Shishido's hands through his jacket, wishing that Shishido would hold him and support him for a few seconds longer.

**~x~**

_**"Matoko Rie, from Hyotei, is captain of the girls' track team. She'll be fast and hard to catch…"**_

"13.1 seconds!"

She halts to a stop, skidding over the blacktop.

"Rie-buchou!" A first year is staring at the stopwatch in her hand, eyes wide with awe. "You're really fast!"

She pants slightly, her hands on her knees. Her lips twist into a wry smile. "Fast enough to outrun a bullet?"

The first year stares, mouth moving but not speaking. "Uh… that is…"

She walks away. She doesn't need to hear the answer.

**~x~**

**"**_**Hiyoshi Wakashi's family teaches Kobujutsu…"**_

Gakuto sits down next to his friend. Neither of them looks at the other.

"So it's kind of lame, huh…" Gakuto finally scoffs. "The Games and all that."

"Yeah…"

"You'll be in there with Atobe and Ootori, you know."

"I'm not afraid of them," Hiyoshi says defiantly, his hands forming fists. "I'm not afraid of them."

'_I'm afraid of the idea of killing them._'

The redhead shrugs, swinging his legs to the side. For a moment he pauses, wording his thoughts. "Atobe is strong, though…"

"So was Kabaji, and we all thought he would win."

Something tightens, twists within him at the mention of Kabaji's name. He brushes it off. "Matoko got picked too. I'd choose her as an ally. Any girl who can outrun Shishido has got have a chance in the Games."

His eyes light up in recognition. "Matoko-senpai? She came by the dojo a few times in middle school." Then they harden again. "But I don't need any allies."

Gakuto nods absently. Allies were a double-edged sword in the Games. He exhales angrily. "Atobe is a jerk. He could have volunteered for you. Instead, he saved that Toudou girl."

Hiyoshi doesn't answer. He knows why Atobe didn't volunteer for him. They are more alike than people think.

Gakuto glares at the ground some more. Then he kicks him lightly and offers him a smirk."Gekokujyou."

Hiyoshi returns the smile. "Aa. Gekokujyou."

**~x~**

_**"Kite Eishirou is known as the 'Killer'. You'll want to watch out for both him and Hirakoba Rin. They're both trained in Okinawan martial arts…'**_

"Hirakoba."

"What?"

Suddenly, the shadow appears in front of him. Hirakoba almost stumbles backwards as Kite emerges in front of him. He was always the best at the _shukuchi _method.

There is an ominous flash of light on Kite's rectangular lenses. Hirakoba feels a trickle of sweat drip down his brow. There is no way to explain how piercing, how deadly, how _suffocating_ Kite's glare is. He's completely frozen.

Kite's voice is low and dangerous. "You better be ready."

**~x~**

_**"Morioka Izumi, the other girl from our year… she's vice-captain of the school's kyuudo team. Close combat will be her weakness…**_**"**

There was a thud as the arrow sank deep into the target board. Perfect bull's eye.

"Your condition is great as usual," Miyuki says. Her face softens. "I reckon you actually have a chance at the Games."

She stays silent.

"You could really win this, you know."

"Miyuki," is all she says. She places a hand on the other's shoulder, the contact light and ethereal, as if she was already vanishing from this world.

'_It's been an honor serving as your vice-captain.'_

**~x~**

**"**_**Kimura Suzume… the second year girl that volunteered for Oshiro. She's been getting into street fights since middle school. One of those punks. Be careful around her."**_

"Yo, Kimura."

"Momoshiro." She waits expectantly. After a second, "You're not going to throw me a pity party?"

He doesn't know what to say. Two years of being in the same class as her, and he never, ever thought she would be the type to throw her life up for someone else. It just shows how much he doesn't know about the people beside him, he thinks. "You… that…" he swallows. "That took a lot of guts."

"I have a lot of guts. You'll see when they spill 'em in the Games."

He grimaces at the squeamish image, at how casually she throws it at him. "But… still. You didn't have to do that." _You didn't have to sacrifice yourself._

She shrugs as if it was no big deal. "I've got a much bigger chance of winning than Oshiro-senpai does."

_That's not it._

Her voice is suddenly serious. "Oshiro-senpai is too good, too nice. She wouldn't last five minutes in there. You remember that red-haired kid that was from our school last year? She'd end up like him."

Immediately, he clenches his fists to quell the bile rising in his throat. Of course he remembers that red-haired kid. '_Eiji-senpai…_'

Cheerful, happy, Kikumaru. He never stood a chance.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Momoshiro still heard his screams.

He meets Suzume's gaze, and something passes between them then – a look of understanding, of acceptance.

A missed chance of friendship.

She tosses her hair, turning away. "If you're betting this year, I'd bet on me."

As she walks away, Momoshiro calls out, "Hey, when you win, I'm treating you to burgers."

She gives him a casual wave in return. "No pickle on mine."

It is an empty promise, but they both know that.

**~x~**

"Inui?" Fuji asks as the black haired boy pauses in between turning the page.

"What?"

"Why are you telling both of us this?"

Inui looks at him. Then he turns his head and looks at Oishi – the dull-eyed, ashen faced boy beside him. He'd never been the same after his best friend's death. In fact, right now he seems to hover between life and death, fading from this world in his despair. And Inui knows that losing both Tezuka and Fuji would kill him.

He grips his pencil tightly, locking his jaw.

"One of you has to win. One of you has to come back."

**~x~**

He continues.

_**"Sanada Genichirou. Do not let him get to a sword. If he manages to get one, your success rate will fall fifty percent."**_

"Sanada…?" Fuji opens his eyes. "Didn't we play him in a tennis tournament?"

"Aa," Tezuka responds. "Three years ago." It seems like a century ago.

"Right. He was the one with the really fast swing, right?"

"His family teaches _kendo,_' Inui warns. "That's why he can swing the racket with that much speed. If you think that's fast, imagine what he can do with a katana. You must not let him get a sword."

"Duly noted," Fuji says lightly, smiling.

**~x~**

"_**There's also Kirihara Akaya. They call him the devil."**_

"S-senpai…"

The boy is hunched against the wall in the hallway, his head on his knees. He is curled up into a tight little ball, as if trying to shut out everything, trying to pretend that it all wasn't happening.

"Oi, Akaya," Marui tries. "Come on. It's not that big a deal, you know."

"Sanada-fukubuchou is going to be there. He'll take care of you," Jackal murmurs. "And Hayashi-chan is super fond of you, so she'll look out for you too."

"I can't do it…" came the muffled response. "I can't…"

Everyone in the school is already putting money on Akaya to win, after seeing his violent performance on the tennis courts.

But they don't know how after every match Akaya is shaking, _shaking_ with fear and disgust and self-loathing over _what he's done_, and how he simply can't—_he just can't-_stand hurting other people.

How he hates the color red – red like his eyes, red like the way his skin flushes, red like the blood that paints his victims.

Marui and Jackal know, though, so they huddle a little closer.

He may be called a devil, but that's really just a name.

**~x~**

"That's all I have," Inui finally closes his book.

"Wait," Fuji says, frowning. "That was only four schools. There should be two more."

"I don't…" Inui fumbles. "I don't have any research on those contestants, so…"

But Fuji's fast, and in a second, the notebook is open in front of him. "Hmm…"

"Fuji…" Inui halts.

He scans the names quickly. "Kite… Atobe… Hmm… who's this? Yamabuki… Akutsu Jin…"

"Akutsu?" Kawamura says in surprise. "Did you say Akutsu?"

"Ah," Fuji turns to him. "Do you know him, Taka-san?"

"Yeah… sort of," His eyes cloud with memories. "He came to this dojo I went to once. He's a really good fighter, but he doesn't play by the rules."

_But there are no rules in the Games, except kill or be killed._

Fuji nods, and goes back to scanning the names. "Sengoku Kiyosumi, Minagawa Reiko, Soto Tetsuya…"

Then suddenly, his eyes catch on a name on the bottom. His whole body freezes up. He feels like he is drowning on his own breath –_god, he can't breathe_—his lungs are contracting, squeezing his chest and forcing his heart to hammer desperately against his ribs. He can't move, he _can't move._

Time comes to a standstill.

The only thing he can do is stare and stare and _stare – _even though he's trying so _damn hard_ to tear his eyes away - at those black letters, spelling out the last name on the list.

_**Fuji Yuuta.**_

**~x~**

"You have a high probability of winning…" Yanagi says.

Sanada resists the urge to snort. "Really."

"Higher than most of the other contestants," the brown-headed boy informs him. "There's that girl from Yamabuki and the boy from Higa Chuu… but your chances are good."

He looks out the window, staring at absolutely nothing. "Last year you said Niou had high chances."

"Niou,,," Yukimura points out gently. "Would've won. We all thought he would win."

They were all so sure he would win. There were only two people left in the arena. And Niou had the gun.

It would've been so easy.

Instead, he faced the camera and gave the whole world the middle finger. Then he pressed the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

'_I'm done with playing your games._'

It was the first time he heard Yagyuu scream, Yukimura remembers. It made sense. Niou was the only person who could ever shatter his 'gentlemen' image in the first place.

Abruptly the guards arrive to take the contestants away. Sanada rises, and with that, both Yanagi and Yukimura get to their feet as well. It is such a simple gesture – borne of respect and friendship, but it strikes something deep within him.

Suddenly, he turns.

"Renji. Yukimura. Can I ask something?"

They wait.

He hesitates. "Earlier…when you were going to volunteer… were you trying to save me, or Akaya?"

'_Or_,' Sanada suddenly realizes that there is a third possibility, a more obvious possibility that he overlooked. '_Or were you planning on dying in the arena with me? The three of us, together?_'

Yukimura and Yanagi exchange a glance, and after a brief pause, it's the Master that speaks.

"Genichirou, you don't want to have these kinds of thoughts plaguing you in the arena."

It's obvious what his message is.

'_You don't want to know._'

Sanada nods stiffly.

_'You're right.'_

Kirihara joins him, his nose runny and his eyes red from crying. Marui reaches over and ruffles his hair one last time. It used to bug him so much when his senpai did that. Now he wishes that Marui will never stop.

The guards lead them out. As they are about to exit the room, they hear Yukimura's voice. It is soft and hard at the same time, with a warning edge, just like the orders he gives during practice.

"Always win, Rikkaidai."

Sanada wonders if this is the one command that he will fail to obey.

**~x~**

**TBC**

A/N: My main focus will probably be on Tezuka, Fuji, Sanada and Kirihara.

I recently was hospitalized and just got out today. Also, it's my birthday in four days. You know what would make me happy? Reviews.


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